Where Suffering Meets Evangelism

Do you know the least effective way to help someone?

Try to immediately solve their problems.

Tell them all the cliches for why bad things happen. Tell them why they’re wrong. Tell them about how their past decisions led to this moment of crisis. Argue with them about why you’re right, and they’re wrong.

How often do we try to fix other people when what they really need is to be heard?

I’m guilty of it, I know.

Our knee-jerk reaction when someone shows their struggle is to offer our insight. That’s not a bad thing, necessarily, but it needs to be near the end of a very crucial series of events.

In my lowest season, it wasn’t an argument that helped me get back up and press onward. It was something else entirely.

Here’s the language that actually compelled me to move forward when I’ve been at my lowest:

“I am so sorry for this pain. You are not alone. It’s okay to be where you are. I’m not here to fix you; I’m here to be with you. You are valuable. Can I share my own story with you?”

Encouragement is more influential than answers. Stories are more moving than statistics. Living examples are more effective than instructions.

I think at our worst, we just want someone to be truly present in that moment. To listen, empathize, affirm, and encourage. We move into deep relationship with others and God when we see the rhythm for how relationships work.

At my turning point, when I finally submitted my need for knowledge and understanding, when deconstruction shifted to reconstruction, I prayed a simple plea:

“I don’t know what to do. Please help me. I will commit to helping others through this.”

The next day, lo and behold, someone who needed support came out of nowhere, and I was able to be that person for them. I’m amazed every time I get to have these types of supporting conversations with people, and I’m always left with a profound sense of gratitude for what I’ve experienced.

It’s funny how before you go through trials or suffering, the traditional idea of “evangelism” feels like this scary task that you are obligated to do. I’ve even heard people joke about making a “Jesus-sale”.

But when you’ve been in a rough spot and found hope in that place, everything changes. Your story begins to collide beautifully with those who are struggling, without you even trying. All of a sudden, God isn’t a pitch to deliver or a sale to be made. All of sudden, people aren’t prospects anymore.

I think that suffering is one of the most common reasons people stop believing in God. How could an all-powerful, all-loving God allow this to happen? Why would God answer my first-world prayers and not save the starving child in a third-world country?

At my lowest point, I struggled with these questions, and while I don’t have all the answers, I’ve come to see suffering in this light:

God chose to come and partake in our suffering, so that we might experience the deepest relationship with him as someone who can not only fully empathize with our pain, but can overcome it.

Jesus, the great Empathizer. Jesus, the great Sufferer. Jesus, the great Friend. Jesus, the only one completely present in our suffering and deepest need. The greatest story. The best living example.

And I think that just like Jesus came to partake in our suffering and give us hope, The Great Commission is really just an invitation to do the same.

To reach out to those who are hurting and offer them hope.

Not a theoretical hope. Not a manuscript. Not an invitation to a club.

Something far more real and far more practical.

“I am so sorry for this pain. You are not alone. It’s okay to be where you are. I’m not here to fix you; I’m here to be with you. You are valuable. Can I share my own story with you?”

You say it well. The knee-jerk instinct to want to fix only compounds suffering and leaves the broken suffering even more with the burden of obligation to respond to useless aid which uses up precious energy, time, emotional reserves. The person needing help ends up worse than before.

Paula – I agree. And not only worse but potentially more disappointed. Many of the cliches contain empty promises of everything being okay. If you’re hope is predicated on your problems being fixed, faith becomes a fragile house of cards.

Very good advice. Sometimes we just want to hand out a “quick fix”, but healing takes time. The physical may be apparent but the other aspects of healing (psychological, spiritual, emotional, etc) take a while.

Timely advice Chase. Having trained in ‘community services’ and spent years in court support work it never ceased to amaze me how complete strangers in trouble would ‘spill their beans’ to me just cos I had finally learnt to be a willing non-judgmental listener. They just seemed to trust this guy to keep confidences then steer them in the right direction. One defendant up for assaulting his wife said: “There’s something different about you. You have this inner peace.”
I’d suggest you go easy on trying to share your story – that’s a no-no in counselling – until they’re ready to listen and ask for it.

Well said, Chase. I wish I had this knowledge years ago. I’ve always tried to fix people’s problems but I’m learning that simply listening and being there for a friend is the best gift I can give them.

While St. Paul shared a lot of advice to his churches via letters, in Acts, he confined his evangelism comments to his own experience – see Acts 26, Paul’s defense of his faith before King Agrippa. We cannot know what another person thinks or feels; we can only know what goes on in our own head. We can be honest and authentic about this – we can say to someone grieving, “I can’t imagine how you must feel. I’m sorry for your pain. I felt pain when my (whoever) passed away…it gave me comfort when people came to be with me in my pain, so I’m here for you for the same reason.” This kind of honesty can invite the person feeling pain to tell you of their pain, which then unburdens them of it, even if only a little. Jesus promised to lighten our burdens – this kind of evangelism is liberating. It takes longer, because it invites a relationship, which may be scary for some people, but that’s what the body of Christ is about – relationships, and bearing one another’s burdens. Good insights, Chase – thanks for sharing. Hopefully many will learn from your example.

Jeffrey – This is so good: “It takes longer, because it invites a relationship, which may be scary for some people, but that’s what the body of Christ is about – relationships, and bearing one another’s burdens.” Thank you for your feedback.